


Watchlist

by smarshtastic



Series: Let Ana F*ck [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Cunnilingus, F/F, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 13:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: Ana can’t be certain how she ended up in this situation, exactly: her wrists bound, arms overhead, her clothes in tatters and barely clinging to her body while a giant Russian woman with shockingly pink hair eats her out with reckless enthusiasm.





	Watchlist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> It's [Let Ana F*ck Week](https://letanafuck.tumblr.com/)!! I've got a couple fics for this week, so here's my first. Enjoy! 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](wictorwictor.tumblr.com) and [twitter](twitter.com/smarshtastic)!

Ana can’t be certain how she ended up in this situation, exactly: her wrists bound, arms overhead, her clothes in tatters and barely clinging to her body while a giant Russian woman with shockingly pink hair eats her out with reckless enthusiasm. 

She knew coming back to the Volskaya Industries campus was a risk. Ana has likely been on the company’s security team watchlist at least since her days in Overwatch, as well as during her stint in the Egyptian Army . She wouldn’t have taken the mission herself except for the fact that her contact insisted she be the one to meet her. It should have tipped Ana off immediately, but maybe she’s gone softer in her old age - or maybe she was too confident in her skills to imagine a scenario in which she would be compromised. 

Either way, Ana hadn’t expected  _ this _ . 

The ropes around her wrists bite into her skin. There will be marks there later, but Ana is having a hard time caring about that now; the slight discomfort of the ropes, combined with the lift strain on her joints given the angle of her arms, really only serves to put a finer edge on the pleasure that curls in her belly. Ana drops her chin to her chest to get a look at the woman again. Underneath a swoop of bright pink hair, the woman’s eyes are closed. Her nose is buried in the wiry white hairs at the apex of Ana’s thighs, her tongue sliding over the hard nub of Ana’s clit with relentless pressure. Ana is glad for the ropes that hold her up; her legs are practically ready to give out already. 

“Oh,” Ana breathes. She’s given up on trying to play coy - it’s no use. Besides, everyone likes to hear when they’re doing a job well done, don’t they? It seems rude not to acknowledge the woman’s admirable efforts. 

The woman blinks open her eyes without letting up the pressure on Ana’s clit, her piercing green irises sending a different kind of shiver down Ana’s spine. Ana flexes her fingers against the ropes that hold her aloft. The woman keeps her eyes locked with Ana’s as she pulls away, dragging her tongue up and over her clit before she draws back completely, sitting back on her heels. Her lips are shiny with saliva and Ana’s own juices. 

“Did Overwatch send you?” the woman asks. Ana shakes her head, already mourning the loss of that clever tongue against her pussy. 

“No. I came alone,” Ana says. It’s more or less the truth. The woman tilts her head to the side, an unconvinced smirk settling across her face. 

“Captain Amari,” the woman says. “You’ve been on Volskaya’s watchlist for a long time.”

“I think -” Ana starts to say, but her throat has gone dry. She swallows and tries again. “I think we have moved past formality. My name is Ana.”

The corner of the woman’s mouth twitches up further. 

“You may call me Aleksandra,” the woman says and then she shifts forward again, her massive hands pushing Ana’s thighs apart again. Aleksandra’s tongue finds Ana’s clit and Ana drops her head back, her eyes closing as a gasp escapes from her throat. Aleksandra’s hands are massive, strong - Ana’s almost certain she could span a single thigh with one hand, and snap her like a twig. It’s been a long time since she’s been overpowered like this. She suddenly realizes that she missed it. 

Aleksandra lavishes Ana’s clit with broad sweeps of her tongue. Her fingers massage Ana’s thighs, inching up ever higher. Ana trembles under her touch. It’s so overwhelming and yet not quite enough - as if Aleksandra is purposefully dragging her to the edge and letting her teeter there. One of Ana’s legs - her left, always the weaker side - finally gives out as Aleksandra circles her entrance with her tongue. Aleksandra pauses, shifting on her knees and then her hands slide up the backs of Ana’s thighs and pull Ana’s legs over her shoulder. It takes the pressure off Ana’s wrists and, even better, gives Aleksandra a better angle to get at Ana’s pussy. She presses her face in close, her tongue curling around Ana’s clit. Ana cries out. She rocks her hips forward, the new position of her legs giving her more leverage to actively participate in the pleasure Aleksandra is giving her. 

The wet sounds of Aleksandra’s mouth on her pussy echo obscenely in the otherwise empty room. Ana hasn’t managed to get a good look at exactly where she is - she’s been too fully distracted by the woman between her legs. She watches her hungrily, mouth hanging open, her breath coming fast. She wishes her hands weren’t bound - she wants to get her hands in that bright, bright pink hair. 

“More, oh, more,” Ana pants. She rocks her hips up to Aleksandra’s face, needing more of her tongue on her clit and inside her pussy, but Aleksandra is an immovable force. She leans back, the tip of her tongue just barely flicking over Ana’s clit. 

“Are you sure?” Aleksandra asks. Her breath is hot and damp on the inside of Ana’s thigh. Ana nods wildly - she’s close, she’s  _ so close _ and the way that Aleksandra is teasing her clit is positively torture. “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking for, Ana.”

“Please,” Ana says, her voice coming out breathlessly. “Please, fuck me. Make me come. Please - I’m so close.”

Aleksandra grins. She reaches up and tears away the last of Ana’s clothes easily with her bare hands, leaving the fabric in ribbons on the floor. The cool air makes Ana’s skin tingle, her already hard nipples standing out further. Aleksandra settles back on her heels between Ana’s legs, adjusting them on her shoulders before she she leans in again. 

Ana’s head falls back as she cries out in pleasure. Aleksandra sucks Ana’s clit into her mouth as one finger teases Ana’s opening. Ana is dripping wet and Aleksandra’s finger slips easily between the folds of her pussy. Ana clenches impatiently - as if she could draw her finger in. Aleksandra continues to tease her, though, her lips wrapped around her clit with delicious pressure, drawing Ana right to the edge. Ana writhes against Aleksandra, arms tugging at the ropes that bind her, desperate for more. The pleasure is relentless, almost unbearable - Ana gasps for breath, unable to make a coherent sound. 

Aleksandra slides a finger inside of Ana at just the right moment. She curls the thick digit inside of Ana to put pressure on that sensitive spot inside of her and that’s it. Ana cries out, quaking as her orgasm crashes over her. She feels Aleksandra’s lips curl in a satisfied smile against her pussy. Aleksandra relents, but only a little bit; she moves her finger slowly in and out of Ana’s pussy as her orgasm subsides, her tongue soothing over Ana’s swollen clit with long, broad sweeps. Ana goes limp, supported by the ropes around her wrists and Aleksandra’s broad shoulders under her legs. 

“Again,” Aleksandra says. Ana’s head lolls as she looks down at her, uncomprehending. But then Aleksandra closes her lips around Ana’s clit with purpose, her finger curling inside of Ana’s pussy. 

The pleasure crashes over Ana again - she’s over-sensitive, she’s not a young woman anymore. Aleksandra is merciless. She works Ana up into a frenzy again, teasing her less than she had the first time. Ana can hardly take it. Her pussy clenches and flutters around Aleksandra’s finger. The wet noise of skin on skin and her own choked off gasps fill her ears. 

“Come, Ana, come for me.”

Ana whimpers. When her orgasm hits her this time, the cry that escapes her mouth is much louder than she expected. Her head goes dizzy, her ears ringing as her body shudders and shakes. Her thighs clamp down around Aleksandra’s ears, trapping her face against her pussy. If anything, it only eggs Aleksandra on; she doesn’t let up the pressure this time, wringing another orgasm out of Ana right on the heels of the previous one. It feels like her skin’s on fire, like sparks are zipping across her nerves. 

Aleksandra is a terrorist. Her lips and tongue and fingers keep moving over Ana’s pussy even as Ana’s cries grow hoarse. In her blissful haze, Ana barely registers the second finger that slides into her pussy - at least until Aleksandra spreads her fingers slightly apart, twisting her wrist to make Ana feel the stretch. Ana bucks against Aleksandra’s hand. 

“No, you stay,” Aleksandra says. “I’m not finished with you.”

Aleksandra’s other hand comes up to press against Ana’s backside, holding her in place as she fucks into Ana’s pussy with her fingers and tongue. Ana feels so full, so overstimulated. Her vision is going hazy, black around the edges, lights popping across her eyes every time Aleksandra hits just the right spot. 

Ana loses track of how many times Aleksandra makes her come. She’s reduced to a loose-limbed, exhausted mess by the time Aleksandra finally pulls away, sucking her fingers clean with an obscene slurp. When Aleksandra cuts Ana down from her bindings, Ana’s legs give out immediately, but Aleksandra catches her in her big, muscular arms. 

“Bath,  _ lastachka _ ,” Aleksandra says, petting some loose hairs away from from Ana’s face. Ana barely has the strength to nod. Her head lolls against Aleksandra’s shoulder as she’s carried out of the room. 

Ana comes back to herself when her feet touch the hot water of the bath. Aleksandra slides into the water behind her, somehow having managed to shed her own clothes between getting Ana in the bath and joining her. Aleksandra’s strong arms wrap around Ana, holding her up, her fingers massaging gently over the spot on Ana’s wrists where the ropes had dug into her skin. It’s surprisingly gentle. Soothing. Ana feels her eyes begin to slip closed, sated. 

Ana doesn’t see Aleksandra again for a long time after that. It isn’t until the members of Overwatch who reassembled after the Recall gather for a meeting with a new source that they reconnect. 

“Captain Amari, this is -” Angela starts to say. 

“Aleksandra Zaryanova,” the woman says, her hair as pink as ever. There’s a sparkle in Aleksandra’s eyes. Ana feels a hot flush spread down her chest and settle into her belly. “We’ve met before, Captain.”

“I remember,” Ana says, doing an admirable job of keeping her voice steady. Aleksandra’s mouth quirks up at the corner and Ana suddenly remembers just exactly how that felt against her pussy. 

“We should catch up later,” Aleksandra says. Ana’s toes curl in her boots. She nods stiffly. 

“Yes, that would be nice,” Ana says before she excuses herself. She ignores Angela’s quizzical look as she turns. Ana can feel Aleksandra’s eyes on her back as she walks briskly away. 


End file.
